


the terror of knowing how alone we are

by iniquiticity



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Longing, M/M, Post Episode 97 Spoilers, Pre-Slash, Typical Caleb-Related Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: "Essek's on the deck," Fjord said, "He keeps looking at the door belowdecks and then out into the ocean and then back to the door. Maybe you should talk to him."
Comments: 10
Kudos: 213





	the terror of knowing how alone we are

**Author's Note:**

> hey wow first critical role fic. also e97 broke me. also hi. i'm pickle. For more commentary and forehead kisses, i can be reached on tumblr at [iniquiticity](http://iniquiticity.tumblr.com), or on twitter at [@iniquiticity](https://twitter.com/iniquiticity)

He told them the whole story, in fits and starts, and they asked questions, some ludicrous, some sensible. At the end there was a pause.

"So now you know what... I have done," Essek said, "But Ludinus will notice, if I am gone too long. He will be suspicious."

"He will have already noticed," Caleb said, firmly, "So you should return. And come up with a slightly better excuse for what you have been doing, outside the party."

"He knows I loathe them. He will not press, if I tell him I just wanted to not be there."

"We could send Fjord instead," Jester said, "He is better at pretending to be another person than you are."

"Thank you, Jester," Essek said, and looked up at her, "But I am more than capable."

"And that's why you're manacled belowdecks in our ship," Veth said.

Essek looked at her. This must have been what she had looked like - what they had intended her to look like, in his tower. They had succeeded, then. He was, impossibly, despite everything, proud of them. "You require a much, much different touch than the Assembly." 

"I certainly hope that is so," Caleb said. He stood. Essek moved towards him for a moment, and then sat back down on the crate. 

"There isn't really any other place he can go," Caduceus added, looking from him to the group, "He betrayed his homeland and helped start this war. And the Assembly, well, I don't feel confident saying they really care that much about giving you a fair shot."

Yasha stared at him as he walked towards the door. Essek bent his head, exposing the length of his neck. He could imagine what it might feel like. Would it feel worse than this did, the bite of her weapons? Worse than the gnashing teeth in his chest and the spot on his forehead that pulsed, where Caleb had kissed him? 

She stepped aside. Bent to whisper in his ear. “We don’t let monsters escape us.”

****

The next night Fjord knocked on Caleb's door before opening it. He stood in the doorway, looking at him, as he sat on the edge of his bed playing with a pearl in his fingers.

"Essek's on the deck," he said, "He keeps looking at the door belowdecks and then out into the ocean and then back to the door. Maybe you should talk to him."

Caleb stilled. He did not look up.

"He's invisible," Fjord continued, and then sat down on the bed next to Caleb. Monkey Frumpkin dropped from the wooden supports above him into his lap, and he idly scratched behind the monkey's ears.

"Perhaps it is not him alone, but he has played a not insubstantial part on starting this war," Caleb said, unfolding his hand again and looking at the pearl, "But he did not even do it on purpose. He is not vicious or cruel or bloodthirsty. It simply did not matter to him."

"That's pretty fucked," Fjord said.

Caleb stood, slow. He put the pearl back into one of his jacket pockets and looked down at Fjord. "Very fucked indeed."

"But now he's trying to end the war, and that's..... could be worse?" Easy to see the struggle on Fjord's face. "I mean. It's not great. But he's trying to make it better, at least? And even if... it sucks, then it's better than nothing?"

"He will punish himself enough." This was said with utmost confidence. "Thank you, Fjord."

The salty air of the ocean brushed through his hair. A glance across the deck proved that Essek was invisible or left. He reached into his pocket and felt the pearl again, smooth against the pads of his fingers. He took several more steps, thinking about those moments. About being Frumpkin and hearing that voice. Ludinus chiding him, and him saying ... you should try friends. The way he had looked away, tense.

"Essek, you idiot," he said, soft, into the ocean air, "To think the Cerberus Assembly -- to think Ludinus Da'leth himself -- would think you as an equal. Would deign to give you even the time of the day if it did not serve him. Did you think they would not see a lonely child and tell him he could be important, and valuable, and smart, and powerful, and better --- if only he listened? If only he gave and gave and gave. And sometimes they would say -- 'you are doing a good job, you important, special little boy, you are doing what is right, you are improving the world, you are improving yourself' -- and how good did that make you feel -- and then they would promise to give you twice as much if you work twice as hard and give twice as much -- and so you do -- and then one day they ask you for everything -- and you do not know anything else but to give, so you do, and at that moment you realize you have been left with nothing. You are a husk and they leave you, desiccated."

There was nothing but the ocean wind in his ears and the dockworkers and the late-night animals and the drunks at the bars. He glanced across the deck and saw no flash of white hair or dark clothes or a fake teal robe. He folded his hands behind his back and strolled across the deck. The moon was bright and made everything soft-white. The moon knew what he had done and shined on him anyway. He had been outside, with the cart, with his fire. 

Did the moon know what Essek had done? Had he been outside, younger than even now, handing the beacon into Ludinus' hands? Some annex or flunky, because Ludinus couldn't even be bothered to meet his new pawn? 

"Worry not, Theylss," he said, into the night, "No matter how badly you have fucked up, no matter how impossibly callous you have been, no matter who and how and why you have murdered, the Mighty Nein will not let you go so easy. That is part of the punishment, to be grasped so tightly by so many different hands it becomes hard to breathe. You will get cocooned in all of the lunacy and break out out as a new version of yourself."

Caleb wished it felt better, this impossible _I told you so_. He wished Essek -- he wished he -- had not been so stupid, so blind, so arrogant, so self-important. He did not deserve to feel better. Essek did not deserve to feel better. They both very much deserved to suffer and struggle and still accomplish all the things they needed to accomplish.

He turned and walked back towards the door. What would he have done, if it had been him? If it had been Bren? Oh, Bren would have given Ikithon that beacon without a second thought. The way that man could whisper in your ear and make you believe ...... the way he could leave you a husk ...

"Widogast." A voice, soft, so soft he almost didn't hear it. Near him, just behind.

He stopped. Turned. Reached out a hand and bumped a curve. Shoulder. Traced the shoulder up until he felt a neck. His thumb brushed over a chin. A cheek.

He let the hand fall.

"Who are you hiding from?"

"Why am I not hiding from would be the easier question."

"We are not permitted easy questions, friend."

A noise, not close to a laugh, and yet. After that there was silence. Caleb looked off into the distance, to where he could see, slightly, the other Empire ships, and the Assembly ship behind it. He wondered if Ludinus was there, or if he had returned to his tower to spend the night in more comfort. He could, of course, come back in the morning. 

"Cocooned?" Essek said, still next to him.

"Oh, yes," Caleb replied. He closed his eyes and remembered. "It will be absolutely suffocating, and you will think about running as fast as you are able in the other direction quite regularly. And one day you will realize that nothing could be a worse punishment than to be granted that very thing you wanted."

"What did you want, before you ..." There was a struggling pause. "Before you knew you were damned?"

Caleb looked towards the voice. He could see Essek in his mind. Could see the way his face struggled to stay even, in a way that matched the quiver of his voice. Could see the way he wasn't able to look Caleb in the eye. "Ah, all kinds of things," he said. "None that I...."

He thought again of the house and the fire and the screams and the cart. Added to the memory was the burn on Astrid's neck, that he did not remember, and was real, must have happened.

"What do I lose, for those things that I wanted?" he asked the space where the drow stood, instead, "Do I become like the Martinet? Like my... like Ikithon?"

"Like me?"

At that Caleb reached, touched fabric, chest. Found the edges of the mantle and clenched it in his fist, pulling the invisible cloth closer. He felt the weight shift and heard the soft noise of surprise. His voice came out lower, sharper, than he had anticipated. "There will be suffering enough without muddying yourself."

When he let go he heard the soft sounds of spellcasting and felt the hum of magic come over his being. Essek slid into visibility, watching him. The faint shimmer of his magic clung to his form like motes of dust.

Essek had not seemed so close when he was invisible, when Caleb had reached out and touched space where he had been and pulled him closer. With his skin and clothes real he could feel the warm air that Essek breathed and the soft hum of magic that came off him from the spell. Narrow drow hands touched him, one wrapping around the one where he held him, the other on his waist. Essek was looking where their hands were locked around his mantle.

It was worse that he could see Essek now. Worse in every way. Worse that Essek was here, when he did not have to be. Worse that Essek was at the negotiations and was pretending to be someone else in so many different ways. Worse that Essek attempted to deceive the most powerful practitioner of the arcane in the Empire, if not all of Wildemount. Worse that Essek had given the beacons over and expected that the Cerberus Assembly would have been fair or just or kind and now they had ended up here. Worse that in some way he had very much contributed to the war Caleb wanted desperately to stop.

Caleb let him go. Essek's hand fell away from his.

"So then, what is next for me?" Essek asked, settling shapelessly back into his mantle, "Let us presume it all goes to as it should. Is there some dragon I must confront, or some friend I can rescue, or some demonic horror for me to chase after?"

"If only all you needed to do was flee a white dragon."

"Oh, you fled it?"

"With as much haste as we could manage. We only needed it to breathe on some mithril so we could repair what would become Fjord's new sword."

"Only," Essek said.

"Only," Caleb agreed.

Essek looked out into the dock. Caleb wondered what he thought, face calm again, mask placed over his emotions. He wondered how close those actions were, to the front of his mind. He wondered if Essek was considering the moment he handed the beacons over. Was it like his house, the cart, the flames?

"You seem doubtful it will go on as planned," Essek said, instead.

"The Cerberus Assembly permits nothing to occur that does not serve them," Caleb replied, and he looked over towards the red ship again. "They have ended the war they they started and they have the artifact they want. They are not fond of leaving loose ends, when they are able to snip them."

"Ludinus wishes it to be over, so he can study in peace."

"As long as we know, it is not over."

"Caleb," Essek looked at him, took in those blue eyes. Caleb wondered what he thought, about how Essek's guilt looked, if it was shaped the same way as his, persistent and aching and sore. "I have had powerful enemies before, and I will continue to have them. I will.... manage him appropriately. I only wish that... you, that the Mighty Nein, was not in the same danger."

"Manage," Caleb repeated, looking back at him, "One of, if not the most powerful, ruthless, cruel people in the empire."

Essek did not quite smile. "I am not underestimating the Martinet. Believe me." His eyes were firm with resolve and his jaw was tight and his shoulders were set. There was a pause. Caleb looked at him and felt -- he did not know what it was he felt, exactly, only that he had felt it only on a few rare occasions. His chest felt achingly tight, like it was not so easy to breathe. "I have done such a thing enough, and I am finished doing it."

"You will never be finished underestimating these people," Caleb replied, "You will think you have learned the depth of their cruelty and callousness and arrogance and then you will find something new."

 _The program has changed many times,_ Ludinus had said.

Essek turned towards Caleb, looking at him again. A hesitant touch, a hand appearing out of the mantle, touching his shoulder, "I want..... nothing more, than than this to be over."

"Hopefully the war will be over," Caleb said, but he did not say it with relief or comfort. He did not shy away from the touch, but he did not lean into it either, even if some pulse in his chest asked him to step closer, to touch, to feel, to need. He obeyed it, a fraction. He pressed the flat of this palm to Essek's chest, feeling the layers of clothes and breastbone under every nerve in his hand. "But this never will be. As it does not, for the damned."

Essek flinched. He looked down at the pale hand over his dark clothes. He wrapped it in his own, brought the knuckles to his mouth and kissed them. "As it should not," he said, with the ache Caleb knew in his own thoughts.


End file.
